


Short Stack

by seizethelight



Series: Hunger [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013), The Unit
Genre: Breakfast, Crossover, Fluff, M/M, Morning After, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:05:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1218775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seizethelight/pseuds/seizethelight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guys who come home with Chuck don't usually stick around long enough for breakfast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short Stack

He isn't expecting the one night stand, the guy Chuck picked up in the bar just off-base, the one with his father's goddamn face, to stay until morning. Chuck was used to guys freaking out, snatching their clothes up the second they roll off after finishing, turning tail and running. 

So when he wakes up with sun in his eyes, bracketed by warmth, it takes Chuck a moment to place where he is, what happened. The jaw nudged into his shoulder looks familiar through sleep-bleary eyes and Chuck wants to lie there another few hours.

The sex was mind-numbingly good, Chuck hasn't come that hard in a long time, and as he shifts in the guy's - Mack, Chuck remembers, his name is Mack - arms, Chuck's pleasantly sore. Mack had put his hands and dick and, memorably, his tongue to good use giving Chuck's ass a thorough workout. 

He tries to go back to sleep, to nestle back into the wall of muscle, but he's too used to waking up just past the sunrise. It's futile, and even though his cock is throbbing pleasantly at the contact, and as much as Chuck wants to stay under the duvet, wrapped up in arms and legs and miles of strikingly familiar freckled skin, Chuck extricates himself from the octopus-like grasp.

He finds his shorts and a reasonably clean shirt on the floor, in the tangle of discarded clothing, and pulls them on as he makes his way out to the kitchen. 

Making breakfast is the least Chuck can do, after the gymnastics routine.

Cooking was something Chuck took up after his mom died, the therapist said to find a non-combative hobby to help him focus on something other than his grief, and with military rations being the alternative, Chuck picked up kitchen duty. 

He'd gotten good at it over the years, and meals with Herc turned out to be the only times they really ever talked, so Chuck kept it up, even as he got older. 

Pancakes sound good this morning, and Chuck knows there's bacon in the fridge, so he lays some strips in the skillet and starts measuring out the dry ingredients. Stirring and flipping and pouring, Chuck's in the zone he slips into while cooking, and he's stacking finished pancakes on a plate when he feels a soft nudge against his side. Turning, he sees Mack's in his jeans, and they're hanging low on his hips, short hair messy from fingers curled in it the night before, a sleepy smile on his face. 

"Morning," Chuck offers shyly. "There's, uh, coffee over there and mugs in that cabinet," Chuck motions with flour dusted hands, "and this'll be ready in a few minutes." 

"You mind?" Mack leans in close, lips pressed right along Chuck's ear, and Chuck's sure he's going to kiss him, when Mack grabs a pancake from the stack and takes a bite. His eyes drop shut as he leans back, head knocking against the fridge, groan of pleasure as he chews. "Shit, kid. Body like that and you cook, too?"

Chuck's mouth goes dry and he can feel his neck start to color, hot and pink, at Mack's jaw working around his mouthful. He's mesmerized until he smells the grease getting smoky and hears it sputter before he shakes out of his daze, moves the pan to a cool burner.

"The bacon! Crap, you need to move out of the way." Chuck lays his hands at Mack's waist and pushes him back. "No shirt, hot grease, you'll get burned." 

Mack lets himself be moved, still taking bites of the pancake in his hand, knowing smirk on his face. 

"What?" Chuck asks, brow furrowing into a familiar scowl. 

"You worrying, it's cute." Mack shrugs and turns, and his broad shoulders remind Chuck so much of Herc, need arrows into his stomach when he turns back to the stove, while Mack finishes chewing.

Chuck looks back at him before pouring the last of the pancake batter. "You know, there's butter and syrup on the counter. This is almost done." 

Mack looks like he's going to retort with something sly that will probably further the blush staining Chuck's skin, when another voice comes from the direction of the hall. 

"What the boy's trying to say, far too politely, if you ask me, is that we'll eat what he put all that effort into making at the table, like civilized human beings." Herc’s tugging an old Academy tshirt over his head when he comes into view, Chuck thinks it might be one of his own. 

"Morning, son, you have a good time last night?" He squeezes Chuck's arm fondly before pouring a cup of coffee. 

Chuck just hitches a shoulder up, makes a vague noise, trying not to embarrassed, and slides the last pancake on the plate. He forks the bacon out of the pan, drains it for a minute on some paper towels, and turns just in time to see Herc lay a kiss on Mack, deep and hard. Chuck almost drops the platters, his knees go weak at the sight of the two of them, at Mack's fingers fisting at the hem of Herc's shirt, at the way Herc's mapping the inside of Mack's mouth with his tongue. 

He tries to clear his throat, but Chuck's frozen to the spot, watching the two of them, like mirror images of his perfect fantasy, lips fighting for dominance of the exchange.

When they finally pull apart, Chuck has to force himself to propel forward, to lay the food down on the table between them, not sure if he's pissed at them not including him or so stupidly turned on he wants to forgo breakfast entirely. 

Herc looks over at Chuck, just shakes his head. The bastard always knows what Chuck's thinking. Thumbing at Mack's jaw, Herc turns his head. "My boy wants you to fuck him again." He's holding onto Mack, but his eyes are piercing into Chuck, so hard he can feel it. " _After_ we eat." 

"Is that so?" Mack leans out of Herc's grasp, catches Chuck's lower lip with his teeth. "Want me to fuck you again? Get you all wet and desperate, that sweet little ass hungry for my dick?" Chuck tries to stop the hiss, the way the bright burst of pain and Mack's words make him hard in less than a second. He fails, on both counts, feels shaky until Herc's arm wraps around Chuck's shoulder.

"You up on the table, swallowing us down, filled up from both sides? Chuck, I promise it won't disappoint you." Herc pulls Chuck away, sits him in a chair. "But first, you need to eat." He puts a plate in front of his son, actually puts the fork in his hand. “Gotta keep your strength up for us.” Chuck catches the wink Herc sends Mack before dishing up his own food. 

The pancakes are good, great even, and he can tell everyone appreciates them after the long night, but even better are the traces of maple syrup, sticky sweet on Mack's lips, the sugar from Herc's coffee on Chuck's tongue, passed back and forth until Chuck's not sure where one of them starts and the other ends.


End file.
